my soul." Girls and young men when called on by the minister responded
with shamed, hesitating voices asking that a verse of some hymn be sung,
or quoting a line of scripture.

At the back of the church the evangelist with one of the deacons and two
or three women had gathered about a small, black-haired woman, the wife of
a baker to whom Sam delivered papers. They were urging her to rise and get
within the fold, and Sam turned and watched her curiously, his sympathy
going out to her. With all his heart he hoped that she would continue
doggedly shaking her head.

Suddenly the irrepressible Jim Williams broke forth again. A quiver ran
over Sam's body and the blood rose to his cheeks. "Here is another sinner
saved," shouted Jim, pointing to the standing boy. "Count this boy, Sam
McPherson, in the fold among the lambs."

On the platform the brown-bearded minister stood upon a chair and looked
over the heads of the people. An ingratiating smile played about his lips.
"Let us hear from the young man, Sam McPherson," he said, raising his hand
for silence, and, then, encouragingly, "Sam, what have you to say for the
Lord?"

Become the centre for the attention of the people in the church Sam was
terror-stricken. The rage against Jim Williams was forgotten in the spasm
of fear that seized him. He looked over his shoulder to the door at the
back of the church and thought longingly of the quiet street outside. He
hesitated, stammered, grew more red and uncertain, and finally burst out:
"The Lord," he said, and then looked about hopelessly, "the Lord maketh me
to lie out in green pastures."